Executive Producer Hollywood Seducer

Executive Producer, Hollywood Seducer

In Hollywood, Producers are famous for using their power and their positioning to tempt Hollywood hopefuls to engage in all sorts of sexual encounters. From the casting couch to call girls, Hollywood’s heavies leverage their power against the possibility that the desire to become an actress, or the need for financial support, will be a magnetic-power-pull that few manage to escape.

A few years ago, when I was between jobs, one of my best girlfriends – who was on a top rated Television show at the time – called me at the last minute and invited me to join her and her Executive Producer for lunch. Unfortunately – for me – last minute was literally last minute, as they had reservations at Spago in Beverly Hills at 1:00 pm and it was 12:50 pm when I received her call.

“But I am in jeans and a t-shirt and funky boots, I can’t go to Spago dressed like that! Do I have time to at least go home and change?” Girlfriend said it didn’t matter, she wanted to see me, and she said Executive Producer was a teddy bear and he could really help me out career-wise, so she instructed me to throw on some lip gloss and get my ass there; which I did.

Thank god jeans are always an acceptable LA Look, but I was more concerned that I was meeting my friend’s Boss – one who could hopefully help remedy the impending poverty that was staring me in the face – and I was worried about making a negative first impression. When the maître d pointed me in the direction of their table, imagine my surprise at seeing my gorgeous, dolled up girlfriend sitting with an older looking gentleman who was wearing jeans, cowboy boots and a cowboy hat. His curly blond hair protruded in a straggly disheveled way from under his hat, and his stomach hung over what I believe was also a large cowboy-buckled belt. His unkempt, non-LA-Look was initially a bit disconcerting, but it did put me at ease in my ‘errand running attire.’

A bottle of wine was already at the table, and as he poured me a glass while I perused the menu, Girlfriend and Executive Producer started to swap gossipy ‘set’ tales, and the conversation was amusing and fun. A few glasses of wine later, Executive Producer started to talk about marriage – specifically his marriage – and how, after 30 years of marriage and two kids, coupled with two successful careers that took him and his wife in different directions – he had spent the last 15 years of his marriage in a ‘sexless business union’.

As Executive Producer started to go into details about his ‘sexless marriage’, my mind started to drift off into a wine-induced daydreaming haze, starting to count in my head how many married men I had encountered since I moved to LA who, after a half an hour or so of innocuous conversational banter, somehow get to the inevitable crux of the dialogue letting it harmlessly spill that they are in a ‘sexless marriage’. A ‘sexless-miserable-unhappy-union from hell’ that they need to stay in because of the ‘kids’, or they can’t leave for ‘financial reasons’, whatever their sad tale is as to why they have to stay in a miserable marriage, it all paves the way for what they hope will be a smooth road for when they… hit on me.

I was starting to wonder if I were to ask the wives of the all miserable married men that hit on me, if they believed that they were in a ‘sexless marriage’ and wondered if the answer would be no, when I heard a comment coming out of the mouth of Executive Producer that instantly stopped my wine-induced daydreaming haze.

“Yeah, well, it is what it is. But I like prostitutes, that’s how I deal with it.

Did EXECUTIVE PRODUCER say… PROSTITUTES?

Prostitutes! He said prostitute, not mistress, not girlfriend on the side, but PROSTITUTE. Girlfriend and I looked at each other, both a bit bewildered that Executive Producer had let something this personal and well, highly incriminating slip, and Girlfriend – who is not only a talented actress but is also a masterful digger-detector of the truth – got that look on her face, a look I knew only too well, one that implied that the prostitute conversation was anything but over. As Girlfriend perked up and implored Executive Producer for details – while simultaneously commandeering a waiter over to the table asking for a third bottle of wine – Executive Producer was more than happy to regale us with tales of his hooker happy hook-ups.

He told us that he met these girls in strip clubs, and picked them based on their athletic prowess and flexibility, and in general preferred girls from the ‘Eastern Bloc’ countries – Russian girls were his weakness. He told us that he kept three different girls on rotation (to reduce boredom I guess lol?) and when he went away for the weekends, or travelled for business, he would pay them $10,000 to accompany him.

He started to tell us vivid and explicit details describing each of the girls: their appearance, their body shape, how each of them were in bed, right down to the color of their pubic hair. It was a somewhat uncomfortable conversation to listen to, but at the same time hilarious. It turned out the Executive Producer was also a gifted story teller, and I bet if he tried he could write a script– a twisted script for sure – but hell, it would be hysterical.

My favorite story of the afternoon was in reference to an incident that happened when he was in Vegas with the Russian girl – who used to be a gymnast – and during one of their athletically inspired sexual romps, somehow a candle got knocked over and it started the curtains on fire. Let’s just say that when you cause a fire in Vegas, and an entire hotel is evacuated – and you and your ‘stripper-hooker-girlfriend’ are running naked in the halls with only a bed sheet around you both – then that is how you not only get kicked out of the Bellagio Hotel, but banned from the Bellagio for life. This story was so funny when he told it that I literally almost peed myself as I was laughing so hard.

Executive Producer went on to tell us that not only did these girls walk away from the trip with a fistful of cash, but as he travelled extensively, the girls got to see the world, eat in fine restaurants, and experience the best things in life that money could buy. He said that he felt like he was ‘doing them a favor, and making their lives better’. Plus on top of all of this, the icing on the cake was that they got to spend time with… him.

By this time it was 4:30 pm, and we were the only people left in the restaurant. I went home and literally passed out. I didn’t really give out much hope that the Executive Producer would help me find a job, but it had been an unforgettable, amusing, and in a dark way, a very insightful afternoon.

A few days later, I saw a missed call on my cell from a number that I didn’t recognize. When I called my voicemail, imagine my surprise when it was a message from Executive Producer – asking me if I wanted to meet him for dinner so that we could discuss my career possibilities. You know I got on the horn straight away to Girlfriend to ask her what to do. She told me to meet him, that he wasn’t a bad guy – prostitute proclivity aside – and that she had asked him to help me find a job.

After all, a girl has gotta eat!

I tried to change the dinner to a lunch, but as he was back working on the set, dinner it had to be. I met him at the Ivy on Robertson, and decided that as I had shown up to our first meeting in jeans that I should wear something more sophisticated, and chose a nice knee length cocktail dress. He, of course, was in jeans and a cowboy hat. We made idle chit-chat for a while, him asking me about my past jobs, and my career aspirations, and for a short while, I actually felt hopeful that this renegade cowboy of a Producer would throw a bone my way.

About 40 minutes into our meal, he transitioned the conversation to our lively lunch of the week past and told me that our discussion had made him ponder his ways. As he looked me in the eyes he said “You know, I am tired of keeping all these mindless bimbos on my payroll, I am at the point of my life where I want more than just sex. I want sex and great conversation.” And then he paused a bit and said “Well, what do you think?” I started to get the ‘Oh My God’ feeling in my stomach, and I am sure my eyes grew two sizes as I realized that he did want to throw a bone my way, but not just any bone… his bone, in the form of a big boner.

I sat their wide-eyed and silent, not sure what to say or do as this was my friend’s boss and I didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize her relationship with him, so I said nothing. A minute or so of uncomfortable silent air space later, he said that he found me classy, sexy, had a great body, and I was intelligent and funny and that he could “Fuck my brains out and still talk to me in the morning.” He went on to say that he would pay my rent, buy me a new car, give me a credit card, basically whatever I wanted if I would agree to be his lover – his lover upon request.

My mind started to race as to how I was going to come out of this night unscathed. I somehow managed to compose myself, and in the sweetest voice I could muster I told him that I was flattered and complimented the hell out of him, but told him that I wasn’t interested in having an affair with him as he was a married man – and I was certain I would end up devastated – because I was sure that I would fall deeply in love him (puke!!!!), and I knew that he could never leave his wife – but if he was ever single to look me up.

I will be honest, I was pretty broke and it would have made my life a whole lot easier. But I have always been someone who needs to be into the guy, attracted to the guy, and even though we all slip morally sometimes, I still always lead with my heart and my heart wasn’t into riding this cowboy for even a second.

Shockingly, he didn’t give up. He tried several times over the years to lure me into his sexual web with offers of first class trips to exotic locations, and when I finally asked him why he kept trying when I always declined, he told me that… I was the only girl who had ever said NO to him.

So the moral of this story is….

I guess it is true, men do love the chase, and saying NO might ultimately get you what you want, or will protect you from what you don’t want.

When having sex with a gymnast, remove all flammables first.

What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas – only at a different hotel! Lol (and it ends up on my blog!)

Hope you enjoy this story! Don’t forget to pick up a copy of my book, Where the Dogs Go, by Janell Martin for all the Dog Lovers out there! It is a heartfelt story about the love between a dog and his human, reminding us that Love is the gift that the universe gives us! Kisses and Licks! http://www.WheretheDogsGo.com Also online at @amazon and @barnesandnoble